The Night of the Near Fatal Trap
by BarkingatJim
Summary: Hard to describe tale of how Jim and Artie take on a mission that leads them back to Washington. Some disguises and lots of dialogue.
1. Enter Gentleman Jim

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 1

 **Enter Gentleman Jim**

"What do you think?" James West asked his partner. He was lounging against an upright beam outside the town's general store, holding an open newspaper, while Artemus Gordon was pretending to take a stone out of his left boot. No-one, looking on, would have realised that they were aware of each other, let alone having a conversation.

"Having worked my butt off, slaving for that surly curmudgeon of a foreman at the Lazy S for the last few days, I'd say that, whether our tip-off was correct or not, there's definitely something odd going on at that ranch house."

"What makes you think that?"

"Firstly, there are tales of mysterious men who used to come at all hours of the night, and not cowboys, either. Then there's the way the owner, Victor Wade, has all that money to throw around. The cattle business isn't that good."

"It looks like he could be behind the payroll hold-ups. We need to find a way into the organisation, to confirm our suspicions and collect some evidence. What do you think about the cousin?"

"The delectable Roseanna Wade? I suppose you think you're the one to break down her defences," Artie said, with an air of having been here before. "When will it be my turn, that's what I want to know?"

"Artie, come on now, you know I need you to stay loose in case we need a disguise or if I get into trouble."

"When has there ever been a time when a beautiful woman didn't get you into trouble?" The length of the conversation was such that Artie had been forced to replace his boot and was now investigating the contents of the right one. "Why can't I disguise myself as you just for once?" he asked.

"Because I am unique and, besides, you lack my technique with the fairer sex."

"Well go and try out your technique. I'm going back to the train for a nice, relaxing, hot bath. I ache all over from wrangling long-horns."

"Not so fast," Jim said.

Artie was currently balanced on one foot, trying to put his boot back on. He scowled. Jim ignored the stormy look. "When is Wade next coming into town?" he asked.

"He visits the bank every Thursday afternoon and then goes to the saloon," Gordon replied.

"He'll be here this afternoon then?"

"Yes, what are you planning?"

"After five minutes I want you to follow me into the saloon. When you spot Wade, start a fight with me."

Artie sighed. "Okay," he said, "Can I go and have my bath after that?"

West sniffed the air. "Artie, I insist on it," he said.

With that, James West folded the newspaper, placed it under his arm and strolled in the direction of the Winning Ace saloon.

Inside, there was the sound of piano music and one of the saloon girls was singing a song. It looked like the sort of establishment that wouldn't adulterate the whisky, so Jim asked for a shot and then leaned on the bar, surveying the scene around him. There were men at one table playing poker and, at another, three-card-monte. Still others were playing billiards. West saw Artemus Gordon enter the saloon, out of the corner of his eye, and head for a seat at one of the tables, from where he would be able to see when Wade turned up.

It wasn't long before a girl approached Gordon and he smiled as she leaned over him. Jim guessed that she was asking him what he wanted to drink. Artie pulled her down onto his lap and whispered something in her ear, then gave her some dollar coins. The girl giggled and got up to go to the bar. She brought back two glasses and a bottle and set them on the table in front of Gordon. He removed the cork with his teeth and poured whiskey out for each of them. The girl settled herself in the seat next to his and they clinked glasses. "Cheers," he said and downed two glasses one after the other.

That was when Wade entered the Winning Ace. Artie turned in his partner's direction and indicated that this was the owner of the Lazy S. Then he dragged the saloon girl to her feet.

"What's your name, sweet thing?" he said.

"Jenny."

"Well, Jenny, can I persuade you to dance with this weary cowboy?" Without waiting for her answer, he began a lively dance around the floor, with the young girl. It was obvious she was not happy with the situation, as his handling of her was rough, to say the least. On his second turn around the floor, Artie purposely bumped into West. Instead of apologising, he went on the offensive.

After eying Jim up he said, "Get out of my way, you gussied up, lily-livered excuse for a man. Make way for a real cowboy!"

West could tell that Artemus was really enjoying himself and he was ready for the punch his partner aimed at him. Jim ducked and planted Artie one right on the jaw, sending him backward into the table of poker players. Artie made sure to grab the table to help himself up, sending the cards and money flying. Instantly, the men were on their feet and attacking him. Jim joined in and landed a punch on whoever got in his way. Soon just about the whole bar was in uproar and then just as suddenly as the fight started, it stopped again. Victor Wade had fired his weapon in the air and the sound was loud enough to shock everyone into staying still.

"Well done, my friend," Wade said, walking over to where West was standing, wiping the dust from his hat. "You fight very well."

"I know how to defend myself," Jim agreed.

"A man that handy with his fists often finds himself in trouble with the law," Wade observed.

"What business is that of yours, Mr er.."

"Victor Wade," he said, extending his hand in greeting.

Jim ignored it. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Mr Wade, I have to be going."

"First, I'd like to know your name."

"It's James West, but knowing it won't do you any good."

Jim turned to leave, well aware that a female was standing just behind Wade. He managed to walk close to her, making it appear that he had just caught sight of her for the first time. He guessed that she was Roseanna Wade. She appeared some ten years younger than her cousin, who was about West's age. The hair piled on top of her head was the colour of Artemus Gordon's chestnut gelding and her eyes were blue, with dark lashes and eyebrows. She had naturally rosy lips and her skin was unusually creamy for someone living on a ranch in Arizona. She had on a pair of cavalry twill trousers, tucked into knee-length leather boots and a blue shirt which complemented her eyes. On top of that was a buckskin jacket, tailored to accentuate her feminine form. She looked delightful.

"Well, who are you, pretty lady?" Jim asked, keeping in character. He had more or less decided to play this the way he had played Frank Slade, outlaw, only he didn't have a moustache.

"I'm Victor's cousin," the young lady replied, "If it's any of your business."

"I have a mind to make it my business," Jim said, treating her to a taste of his easy charm and the glint of his laughing green eyes.

"In that case, I'm Roseanna Wade," she said, thawing a little and holding out her hand to him.

James West slowly lifted it to his lips, while keeping his eyes fixed firmly on her face, in order to create a feeling of intimacy.

"You're beautiful, Miss Wade," he said, keeping hold of her hand and gently massaging her palm.

"You may call me Roseanna," she said, a little breathlessly. There was something in her eyes that told him to be wary but, as always, in these situations, he took no notice.

"And you may call me Gentleman Jim," he replied.

"That's an unusual name. Is Victor right?" she asked.

Jim raised a questioning eyebrow.

"About you having been on the wrong side of the law," she said.

"I can't say as I remember ever being on the right side of it," he replied. "How else do you think I can afford duds like these?" he asked, referring to his well-cut suit of , blue cloth.

Having overheard their conversation, Victor Wade approached West. "I'm looking for a man like you, who can handle himself in a fight. If you have nowhere more important to be, I would be delighted if you'd accept an invitation to stay at my ranch."

Jim looked at Roseanna and seemed a little hesitant.

"My cousin Roseanna lives at the ranch with me. I'm sure she'll add her welcome to mine, won't you my dear?"

"Of course Mr Wes is welcome to join us, if you say so, Victor," she said.

"Your beauty and your other charms are the deciding factor for me," Jim told her. Then he turned to Victor Wade.

"I'll be happy to accept your invitation," he said.

"Then come and have a drink with me," Wade said, clapping West on the back. They went, with Wade's men, to one of the tables, which had now been set upright again. Roseanna joined them and they sat drinking and discussing politics and cattle. Jim made sure to pay enough attention to Roseanna to keep her interested.

Artemus Gordon watched from his position by the door and, when he was satisfied that his partner had achieved his objective, left the saloon and headed back to the Wanderer, for his long-awaited and much-needed bath. He nursed his sore jaw as he went. Why did Jim have to hit him so hard? It added insult to the injury of Jim getting to be the one who wooed the delicious Roseanna. Artemus could have really made a fool of himself over a girl like her. Gentleman Jim – Whoever heard of such a ridiculous name?

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More to follow


	2. The Lazy S

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 2

 **The Lazy S**

James West woke up next morning in one of the guest rooms at the Lazy S. When he had arrived the previous night it was already nearly midnight but there had been a full moon, so he could make out the house as they approached it, on horseback.

When Artie had described the Wade residence as a ranch house, he hadn't done it justice. It was in fact a mansion, built of stone, with at least twelve rooms, judging by the number of windows. And that didn't include the servants' quarters.

Jim stretched and looked down at the pyjamas his host had insisted on lending him and which he had accepted, despite the fact that he usually slept in his underwear, because it went with the character of Gentleman Jim. Why had he picked that stupid name? Now he was stuck with it. His own luggage would be forwarded from the Wanderer. He was sure Artie would see to that.

The pyjamas were of excellent quality, as was everything in his room. He wondered where Roseanna's room was and made a mental note to find out. It would pay to keep tabs on that young lady, especially if he was to woo her under Wade's nose.

He stretched and got out of bed, just as there was a knock on the door, and a servant entered, carrying a pitcher of hot water and some shaving gear. There was a clean towel over his arm.

"Mr Wade asked me to tell you that breakfast will be served in the dining room in thirty minutes, if you can be ready by then," he said.

"I'm sure I can," Jim replied, undoing his pyjama jacket and tossing it onto the bed. The servant was suitably impressed by the sight of the sun-kissed, exercise hardened, muscles on his arms, shoulders and torso.

Jim washed and shaved and presented himself, as requested, half an hour later, in the dining room, and set about piling a plate with bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns, fried tomatoes and mushrooms. He told himself that it was necessary to keep his strength up and it also fitted well with his character.

"I'm glad to see you have a healthy appetite, Mr West," Wade said as he entered the dining room. "You've beaten me to it."

"Was I supposed to wait for you?" West asked as he put his knife and fork down momentarily, while he reached for the coffee pot.

"No, of course not; I don't stand on ceremony," Wade replied.

"Will Miss Wade be joining us for breakfast?" Jim asked.

"She usually takes breakfast in her room," Wade was saying when the door opened and his cousin entered in an outfit of eau-de-Nile, consisting of some multiple-layered, flimsy material, edged with masses of lace.

"I hope you don't mind me coming down to breakfast in dishabille," she said, looking directly at Jim.

"It's rather inappropriate when we are entertaining guests," Wade replied.

"Are you entertained, Mr West?" she queried.

"Thoroughly, Miss Wade," West replied, winking at her and spearing a sausage from his plate.

Roseanna laughed. "Our guest has decided," she said, "It's not as if you can see anything anyway."

Jim Smiled. Due to the décolleté of her peignoir, he could actually see quite a bit of soft, pink flesh, but he wisely said nothing in case, as a result, it was removed from his view. He was quite enjoying this assignment so far. Poor old Artie was really missing out.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Artie opened it and hovered at the entrance. He was dressed for more cattle wrangling, James observed.

"Pardon me, Mr Wade," Gordon said. "I've brung Mr West's luggage from his lodgings in town," he lied. "Where do you want me to put them?"

"Don't bother me; see Mrs Hoskins, the housekeeper, she'll direct you."

"Thank you, Sir," Artie said, taking in the sight of the half-undressed Roseanna Wade and looking, with narrowed eyes at his partner. Jim could tell that Artie was cross that he was once again the one doing the wooing. He gave Artie a wink and a smile and then returned to his appraisal of the young woman's attributes.

There was a definite scowl on Artie's face as he departed with the luggage.

Wade turned to West. "I thought I heard you tell my cousin that you go by the name of Gentleman Jim. Is that correct?"

"Yes, I thought the title suited me, what with my love of fine clothes and the way I charm the ladies."

"I must admit I've never heard of you before."

"My criminal operations have been carried out across the border, in Canada, but things got a little too hot for me so I fled to Montana and now you find me in Arizona Territory."

"Well, I believe I have just the job for you."

"Good, until I met you I thought I..., I can talk freely in front of the little lady, can't I?"

"Certainly; go ahead!"

"Well, as I was saying, I thought I was going to have to start holding up stage coaches to keep my head above water. That's a dangerous business."

Wade laughed loudly at that.

"Did I say something funny?" West demanded, bristling at his host's response.

"Oh no, Mr West, on the contrary, your thoughts were appropriate to a recent scheme for making money that I was involved with. I'll explain tonight. I have some friends coming by that I'd like you to meet."

"If there's money in it then I'm your man, though lately I've worked alone, and I'm not sure I'm keen on going back to the days when I had to share the pickings."

"Don't worry, Mr West, your share will be greater than you could ever hope to make, working alone."

"Well, I reckon I'll wait until I hear what you have to say tonight before I allow myself to be convinced of that," West replied. "But what should I do until then?"

"I'm sure Roseanna will be happy to ride out with you and show you the ranch, won't you my dear?"

"Of course, Victor, I'll go and get dressed in something suitable," she said. "I'll meet you at the stables in half and hour's time, Mr West."

"She's a lovely young woman," Jim said to his host, after she had gone and they lingered over their coffee.

"Yes, I suppose she is," Victor said. "I trust she'll be safe in your hands, Mr West."

"She'll be as safe as she would be at her mother's bosom," Jim said and cringed inwardly at the words. He was a little fed up of pretending to be an uneducated criminal. He marvelled at how Artie could carry off a character for several days at a time, sometimes under the most trying circumstances, without slipping back into his own persona.

He didn't have time to wonder about it, he had to come up with a plan to seduce the beautiful Roseanna sufficiently for her to help him in his mission.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

More to follow


	3. Roseanna

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 3

 **Roseanna**

Approximately forty-five minutes later, Jim and Roseanna left the stables and galloped their horses for a mile or so, to exercise the fretfulness out of them and make them easier to control. Then they slowed to a walk and Roseanna led them down to a spinney, next to a spring. Leaving the horses to drink, Roseanna and Jim went a few yards away and sat down on a grassy bank. For a moment they sat and listened to the faint sound of the water and the wind in the trees.

"Your cousin has a fine spread here," Jim commented. "Is there much profit in cattle?"

"Victor is a rich man, as you must have noticed," she answered.

"Yes, that's obvious, but did his wealth come from raising cattle or from his other interests?"

"You can ask him yourself, at tonight's meeting," she told him. "Let's not waste this glorious morning on talk about money."

"You're right, Miss Wade."

"Call me 'Roseanna' and I shall call you 'Jim'," she said, touching his arm.

Jim took her hand in his and, once again, used his tried and tested technique of gently rubbing his thumb over her palm, in rhythmic movements.

"You have sensitive hands," she said, "Strong but gentle."

She had leaned toward him while saying this and Jim took the opportunity to lower his head and tentatively touch his lips to hers. Roseanna didn't pull away, but allowed him to deepen the contact, while Jim put a hand to the back of her head, to pull her closer still.

After a while she lifted her head away from his and he removed his hand. She gave a contented sigh and then her eyes met his.

"I hope you don't think I'm a loose woman," she said.

"Of course not," Jim replied. "I have the greatest respect for you."

"I don't normally let my guard down like this but you are having a strange effect on me."

' _Yes,'_ Jim thought, _'the old charm is working its magic once again.'_ "Is that a good thing?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm worried it could get me into trouble."

"You let me do the worrying," Jim said. "You just relax and enjoy it." So saying, he took her in his arms and kissed her again. Her mouth was pliable under his, melding his lips with her own but in an almost innocent enthusiasm that he found refreshing. The sensation was very pleasant but West was determined not to be carried away with the role he was playing. He had to keep her at a distance mentally, if not physically. This was no problem as he had done it on countless occasions. After a moment she pulled away from him.

"We could have some fun, if I came to your room after dinner tonight," she suggested.

Jim smiled. "Why don't I come to your room instead?" he asked.

"It's far too dangerous," she replied, but didn't elaborate on her statement.

Jim didn't question her. "Shall we continue with our ride now?" he asked.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea, "I have acres to show you yet."

"And more secluded spots like this one?" he suggested.

Roseanna smiled and went with him to collect the horses.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

If Victor Wade had been paying attention at dinner, he would have noticed the glances Roseanna exchanged with Jim. The former left the room when the two men sat back from the table to enjoy a cigar. She gave Jim a conspiratorial wink as she left the room.

After fifteen minutes, Jim excused himself as well. "I think I'll have a nap before our meeting tonight," he said. "I've drunk a little too much wine with my dinner."

"By all means," Wade said. "I want you wide awake at midnight."

Jim nodded and climbed the stairs to his room. He opened the door and found Roseanna on his bed. She was wearing something similar to what she'd had on that morning, at breakfast, but lilac this time.

"Come over here," she said. She could have saved her breath. Jim was already half way across the distance between the door and the bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed as she helped him off with his jacket and cravat and then he moved until he was kneeling in front of her, in shirt and trousers. Roseanna pushed him, unresisting onto his back and leaned over him, mussing his hair.

"You look so much younger with your hair like that," she said, getting it to fall over his forehead. "Would you like to play a game?" she asked.

Jim smiled lazily and asked. "What sort of game?"

"Well I'd just love to make you my prisoner," she cooed.

Jim gave her another of his lazy smiles. "What do you have in mind?"

Roseanna took Jim's hands and pulled them over his head. "Hold them there," she said.

Jim did as he was told, still smiling. Roseanna left the bed and, standing above him, removed the ribbons from her coiffure, shaking her hair, to let it fall loosely around her shoulders. She held the ribbons aloft, for West to see. There were four of them, wide, in a pale blue colour. Walking back to the bed, she began to tie one of his wrists to the bed frame and then the other, while he looked on, bemused. After that, she dealt with his ankles. Jim wasn't alarmed, as he felt sure it would be easy to release himself, if he wanted to, and he was intrigued as to what Roseanna planned to do next.

The first thing she did was to lean over and kiss him full on the lips. The second was a little unexpected. She walked over to the door, opened it, and left, with a lingering backward glance and an air kiss, blown in his direction.

For a moment, Jim lay where he was. Half expecting Roseanna to return but, after five minutes, he gave up on that idea and faced the reality of having been made a fool of by a woman. The fact that she was a beautiful one only made it worse.

Jim attempted to release himself and then was surprised for a second time. He had been so bemused by what Roseanne was doing that he hadn't noticed that she had tied the ribbons in such a way that, as soon as he strained against them, the knots tightened around his wrists and were almost impossible to untie.

He lay there, humiliated and frustrated. The last thing he wanted now was for Roseanna to return. His attention was drawn by a noise at the window and he looked across in time to see a figure lift the sash and climb inside the room. It was Artemus.

"I thought this would be a good time for us to catch up," he was saying, as he straightened up. Then he took in his partner's dilemma and chuckled richly.

"Well, Jim, my boy, you appear to be in an embarrassing predicament, to say the least."

"Yeah, yeah, now cut me loose will you?"

"Let me see who tied you up first," Gordon said, approaching the bed, for a closer look.

"That's not important," Jim said, wishing he and the bed could sink through the floor and out of his friend's sight.

"Ah, pretty, baby-blue ribbons," Artie said. "I'm guessing it wasn't Victor Wade and his henchmen then." He chuckled again.

"Very amusing," Jim said. Despite being completely clothed, he felt as if he had been caught with his pants down. "Just get me free, will you?"

"No need to be embarrassed," his partner assured him. "It was bound to happen one day, the way you're so trusting of women. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Artie, can we skip the lecture and...?"

"Don't worry, I'll release you. I just hope you've learned your lesson." So saying, he produced a knife, which was hidden in his right boot, and proceeded to cut the ribbons.

Once he was free, Jim leapt off the bed, like a scalded cat, and stood there, with his back to his friend, rubbing his wrists and trying to compose himself. He was waiting for the embarrassed flush to leave his face, before turning around.

"What do you have to report?" he asked.

"For one thing, I know who's going to be at the meeting tonight."

"Who?" Jim asked, turning around at last. He pulled at his shirt sleeves, when he realised Artie was looking at the faint red marks on his wrists, left by the silk restraints.

' _He must have really struggled,'_ Artie thought. "Wade, of course," he said, "also a Mexican called Tomas Da Silva, from Albuquerque, and an American named Jonathan Prentiss."

"Hmm, I wonder what their involvement is in all this."

"Two of Wade's ranch hands will be there as well," Artie continued. "They do a lot of strong arm stuff for Wade, by all accounts."

"What are their names?"

"I only know them as Curly and Molyneaux; he's a Canadian."

"Is Wade really just plotting to hold up a stagecoach?"

"Well, we'll have the opportunity to answer that question tonight."

"We?"

"You didn't think I'd let you go it alone, did you? The meeting is set to take place in the dining room, which just so happens to be the room beneath this one. I'll be up here, listening to everything that's being said."

"How are you going to do that? Don't forget, if you lock this door, it might arouse suspicions, especially if Roseanna comes back to check up on me."

"Easy, I'm going to drill a hole in the floor, underneath the bed, with this little baby," he said, producing a hand-drill from his pocket. It was squatter in design than usual, having a horizontal wheel on the top, rather than a vertical one at the side, ideal for use in small spaces. "I'll be hidden out of sight of anyone entering the room and I'll be able to see and hear everything that goes on."

"Alright, you get on with that, I'm going to track down the elusive Miss Wade."

"Do you think that's wise, especially after what she did to you?"

"James West wouldn't think so but Gentleman Jim would. See you later!"

"Damn silly thing to do," Artie said, under his breath.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

More to follow


	4. Midnight

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 4

 **Midnight**

Jim arrived early for the midnight meeting. He had failed to find Roseanna and assumed that she had dressed and left the house. The other men arrived a few minutes later but Jim had no time to talk to them as Wade arrived almost immediately after them. The first thing he did was to introduce them all to each other. He indicated a Hispanic gentleman, dressed formally in a suit of Mexican design. He had dark hair, greying at the temples, and a flowing moustache. His skin showed the ravages of a hot climate and was pock-marked.

"This is Senor Da Silva, from Albuquerque. He is an expert in poisons. To his right," he added, pointing to a man in his thirties, who was somewhat nondescript in appearance, "is Mr Jonathan Prentiss. He is an actor."

Jin had been sure that he recognised Prentiss and now realised it had probably been at a theatre.

"He will impersonate the Senator for Colorado and will take his place at the function President Grant will be hosting on the twenty-third."

Jim had to hide his shock at hearing what Wade was up to. It sounded like an assassination plot and the victim was the one man he admired above all others, President Ulysses S Grant. He bent his head to hide the momentary look of shock and contempt on his face.

"I was hoping to introduce you to Ben Driver tonight, but he died, a few days ago, of the wounds he received after he and his men held up an army gold shipment. I had allowed him and his men to use the ranch as a base but they had orders not to return here if anything went wrong. One of his men reported his death to me."

The men around the table shook their heads at the loss of the outlaw who should have been their co-conspirator. Then their eyes turned in West's direction.

"This is his replacement, Jim West, recently a resident of Canada, so he has a clean record down here. He'll provide the necessary muscle, in place of Driver."

"How do we know he is who he says he is?" Prentiss asked.

Jim forestalled any response from Wade by pulling a folded sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. He tossed it onto the table and Da Silva reached out and held it up for them all to see. It was a wanted poster issued by the newly-formed Canadian North-West Mounted Police. It bore an easily-recognisable photograph of "James 'Gentleman Jim' West and the word 'REWARD' above the sum of '$2,000'. Even in Canadian money that was a respectable amount. There was then a description of his various offences, train and bank robbery, and assault. The only difference between the man on the poster and the one standing before them was the moustache.

"I shaved it off when I left Canada," Jim explained.

Upstairs Artie admired the way Jim had used the same photo for the wanted poster as he had when playing Frank Slade.

"Thank you, Mr West. I hope you're satisfied, gentlemen."

Da Silva and Prentiss nodded.

At this point, Wade motioned to the two men who had been standing silently, several paces behind him. They moved forward.

"Now then, Mr West," he said, "You've probably realised that the point of this meeting is to finalise our plans for the assassination of President Grant. I have nothing against him, personally, but our patron is willing to pay a considerable sum of money for his disposal. It's not as if it will do any great harm to the country, he has not been that great a president and it will be easy to replace him." He paused and the two men at his side dropped their hands close to their holsters. "Are you with us or not, Mr West?"

"That depends," Jim said, keeping is eyes on the two men. "What's in it for me?"

"One thousand U.S. dollars, will that do?"

West whistled through his teeth. "That's a considerable sum of money. What do you want me to do for it?"

"I want you to get inside the White House, disguised as a waiter and start a fight outside the reception room, as a diversion; a fight so lively that the President will appear to be in danger. His secret service bodyguards will automatically go to investigate and that will give Prentiss, disguised as the Senator, the excuse to approach Grant, under the pretence of helping him to safety. He will, under cover of this action, deliver a deadly poison, through a needle, into the president's arm. The symptoms will be identical to those of a fatal heart attack, and then no more President Grant."

"I see," West said, inwardly appalled. "You three have obviously discussed this before, with this, Ben Driver person. By the way, just out of interest, what was there in it for you, to let him use the ranch as a hide-out – fifteen percent of the haul?"

"Twenty percent, actually. But what is your point, West?"

"Well, this Ben Driver must have been a numbskull. How was he going to do that on his own? It's nigh on impossible if you have to rely on attacking a perfect stranger and expect him to keep the fight going."

"What do you suggest?"

"How about I bring in a friend of mine, to fight with? We would both be dressed as waiters, we start the fight in the hallway outside the room holding the President, as you suggest, but then we 'accidentally' knock out the guards and burst into the reception, fists flying."

"Who is this friend?" Wade demanded, as Da Silva leaned forward interestedly. Jim could see he was already sold on the idea.

"An outlaw called Irish Jack. He's a mean son-of-a-bitch and just the man for the job. He has no allegiance to the U.S.A. and would do anything for money."

"How much would he want?" Wade asked. "The person bankrolling this enterprise would be unwilling to pay another two thousand, I'm sure."

"You leave Irish Jack to me. Just $100 will see him right."

"Where is he now?"

"He could be here by tomorrow." Jim knew he and Artie would have to work fast because the reception was only a few days away.

"Let me know as soon as he arrives," Wade said.

Jim nodded. "Out of curiosity, who is the man who's paying us to kill Grant?"

"Let us just say a person with bitter memories of the civil war."

Jim had to be content with that answer as he didn't want to press the matter and make Wade suspicious of him. The meeting broke up after that, the four men staying only for a nightcap, before going their separate ways.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

On the way up the stairs, Jim wondered if Roseanna had decided to return to his room, ready to apologise or maybe even to taunt him again. If she had then it would mean that Artie was trapped under the bed. However, when he opened the door, the room was empty. He locked the door and moved toward the bed.

"Artie!" he whispered. "It's safe to come out now."

His partner shuffled out from under the bed, on his stomach.

"Did you hear everything?" Jim asked.

"Yes, this is a whole lot different to what we thought was going down. It seems Ben Driver was the one robbing the stagecoaches. This lot have actual murder and treason in mind."

"Yes, and you and I have to put a stop to it."

"What's the plan?"

"I'll go into town in the morning, on the pretext of sending a telegraph to Irish Jack. I'll actually send a report to Washington, to warn Colonel Richmond about the threat to the President."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You need to arrange for your disappearance from the ranch, so that you can turn up here in the afternoon, playing your new character."

"That reminds me, James," Artie said, the use of his full name, tipping Jim off that he was upset with him about something.

"What's wrong?" he asked, though he had a pretty good idea.

"Irish Jack? Why the hell did you saddle me with that name?"

"It was on the spur of the moment," Jim said. "Besides, your Irish accent is really good."

"Yes, but it's hard to appear mean when you sound like a leprechaun! Why didn't you call me Mexican Jack? It's easy to be mean in Mexican."

"Yeah, well it's too late now. You'll just have to do the best you can."

"I suppose so. At least it's not as bad as 'Gentleman Jim'. What the hell were you thinking? Don't make up any more names, okay? Discuss it with me first!"

"Yessir!" Jim said, with a smirk. He found Artie's tirades amusing rather than annoying. As usual, his partner was justified in his criticism, though Jim would never tell him that.

Artie made a noise that sounded like an unhappy puppy dog and left the room via the window. Jim undressed, down to his underwear, and got into bed. He couldn't be bothered with pyjamas tonight. He heard the grandfather clock in the hall strike two o'clock just before he fell asleep.

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More to follow


	5. An Apology and an Admission

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 5

 **An Apology and an Admission**

Much to Jim's consternation, and surprise, Roseanna didn't appear at breakfast the next morning. Her cousin had said she didn't usually come down to the dining room in the morning, but he had hoped that she would, because of him. Her absence pricked Jim's male pride a little but it meant he was free to ride into town without any hindrance or distraction. Once there he sent the report he had outlined to his partner the night before, simply telling Colonel Richmond that an attempt was to be made on the President's life, at the upcoming reception, and that he would send further details, once he knew who was behind the plot. He also suggested that they hide the Senator for Colorado away, so that Wade wouldn't be able to find him.

"When do you expect, Irish Jack to arrive?" Wade asked Jim, over lunch.

Jim put aside his plate of corned-beef hash and, before answering, took a sip from his cup of freshly brewed coffee. It was good but not as good as Artie's.

"He should be arriving about four this afternoon," he said at last.

"I'm going into town to see about the sale of some steers. I'll be back around three-thirty. Bring your friend straight to my office when he turns up, won't you?"

Jim bowed in acquiescence as Wade put down his serviette and left. Jim followed suit and went upstairs to his room. He was expecting Artie to arrive in a few hours and thought he would use the time to find out who the man behind the assassination plot was. He decided to make it look like he was going for a ride but, in fact, double back to the ranch house to slip in through the window of Wade's study. First, he made sure that Wade's henchmen were going into town with him. Things would be easier with them out of the way.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The window to the office had been left slightly open, it being very hot that day, and so Jim had no difficulty in gaining access. The first thing he did was to search Wade's desk. He started with the paperwork on top and then attacked the drawers, most of which were unlocked. He didn't dare to force open the locked one, as it was imperative that Wade be unaware he had been there. He took the lock-pick from his lapel and had the lock open in seconds. He was rewarded by finding a letter addressed to Wade from the person who was financing the assassination. Unfortunately, it was unsigned and there was no other clue as to the sender's name. West was certain, however, that if he saw the handwriting again, he would recognise it, as it was quite distinctive. He returned the letter to the drawer and relocked it before hunting around for a safe. There was a small one set into the floor, under a rug, but it required a combination as well as a key and he realised that, even if he could somehow break the first barrier, his lock-pick was inadequate to the task of opening so large and complicated a lock. And he didn't have all day.

Stealthily, he walked to the window, took a look outside to see if anyone was nearby and, finding the coast clear, left by the way he had entered and went to collect his horse. There was another hour or two before he expected Artemus to arrive so he went in search of Roseanna once more. Maybe she would know who was behind the plot to kill the President and just maybe he could persuade her to tell him.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Jim took his horse back to the stables, only to find that Roseanna had taken her own mount out for a run. They had gotten on so well the last time they went riding together that Jim saw an opportunity to get back onto a level footing with the beautiful young woman.

He rode out toward the small pool beside the wooded area, where he remembered they had shared their first kiss, and found her sitting on a fallen log, in the shade of the trees, this time.

"Hello, Miss Wade," he called to her, before dismounting from his horse.

She looked up in surprise, having been deeply lost in thought before his arrival.

"Mr West," she said, with a smile. "What a pleasure to see you."

Jim was glad of her friendly greeting. "The pleasure's all mine," he replied graciously, approaching the log and sitting down beside her, while remaining at a polite distance.

Roseanna looked at him, the smile fading from her face, as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. She obviously had something on her mind.

"I owe you an apology," she said, coming straight to the point and rather taking him aback.

Jim remained silent, waiting to see what she would say next.

"My actions toward you last night were abominable," she said. "I don't know what you must think of me."

"Well, let's just say it's a good job you didn't ask me that at the time. But that's all water under the bridge, now." He smiled. This was going better than he could have imagined.

"That's very kind of you. I suppose it was just nervousness on my part," she said.

Jim had to restrain himself from laughing out loud but, when he looked at her face and remembered her sweet kisses of the day before, he was struck by the idea that she may well have been playing a part, though her tying him up had definitely been planned for a reason.

"You are, after all, a man of the world whereas I ..."

"I quite understand," he said. "Perhaps we can start again as friends," Jim added, noting the relief on Roseanna's face as he said it. His previous thoughts were confirmed but he was starting to wonder what she was up to.

"Thank you," she replied. "I think I would like to know you better."

Jim would have welcomed that statement, if it had come from most other women, but his suspicions were fully aroused now.

"There's not all that much to know," he said. "But ask away!"

"Why are you working for my cousin?" she asked.

Jim was surprised at the lack of subtlety in her questioning. "For the money, pure and simple," he replied, remaining in character.

"So you don't have a personal interest in Grant's death?"

"None whatsoever; I daresay he's a perfectly nice guy."

Roseanna seemed to think for a while before she asked, "I don't suppose it would make any difference if I asked you to leave here and forget all about my cousin and his plans?"

Jim was surprised at her question. Why was she trying to get rid of him? "No, it wouldn't," he agreed, "Why are you trying to get rid of me? It's not very flattering." He smiled to show that he was not really offended.

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

Jim was surprised at her answer. He'd obviously made more of an impression on her than he thought. Was that the reason she had tied him up, had she wanted him to miss the meeting? "Did you give Ben Driver the same advice?" he asked.

"Ben Driver wasn't like you. He was really mean and nasty."

"You said it was your cousin's plan just now," Jim said, turning the conversation in the direction he wanted. "But, from what he said, I understood he was being paid by someone else to carry out the assassination. Do you know who that is?"

"Why do you want to know?" she asked.

"I'm not a very trusting. If I get stiffed for the money I want to know who to look for."

Even to Jim, that sounded like a rather lame explanation. Roseanna either believed him or chose not to question his answer for some reason.

"A man visited my cousin a few months ago. He arrived in a closed carriage, late at night. That is not a usual form of transport in these parts."

"Did you see who it was?"

"No, my cousin took him directly to his study and locked the door. I don't know why I'm telling you all this," she added.

"I often find beautiful women tell me all sorts of things," West said, moving closer towards her. He dipped his head just as she raised hers and their lips collided in a kiss. Roseanna pulled away first.

"You know I can't think straight when you do that," she accused.

Good, Jim thought, that would make his job easier. "Do you think you cousin would tell you who it is?"

"No, I'm just his little cousin; he doesn't trust me with any information about his plans. I only know about it at all because I spied on one of his meetings. You won't tell Jake, will you?" she asked, suddenly realising to whom she was talking.

"Don't worry, I won't say a thing," Jim assured her. "Come on, I'll race you back to the house," he said, helping her up.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

More to follow


	6. Irish Jack

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 6

 **Irish Jack**

When his partner had not turned up by four o'clock that afternoon, Jim decided to go and tell Wade that it looked like Irish Jack would be late. After that he intended to visit the town to look for him. Artie was usually totally reliable and he admitted to himself that he was worried that something bad had happened to him.

Jim knocked on Wade's office door and then, in line with his character, didn't wait for an answer but strolled in and...stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a tall dark Mexican standing, facing Wade's desk, with his back to West. The stranger was wearing French navy blue trousers, tucked into knee length, black boots, a black jacket and a black hat. West was about to apologise for interrupting when the stranger turned toward him and he noticed the wine-coloured shirt, the string tie and the large buttons. He did a double take. What was Lightning McCoy doing here? Or Artie's version of him, he corrected himself, except the facial scar was missing. He frowned at Artie and his friend smiled back at him. He had a pencil moustache and a day's stubble, besides having added a subtle amount of eyeliner.

"Gentleman Jim," he said in a Mexican accent. "You see, I am here at your request, amigo."

Jim looked at Wade to see how he was taking all this.

"I'm glad you're here, West," Wade said. "I was just asking Irish Jack here how a Mexican came to have a name like that."

"I am a man of few words," Artie said. "Perhaps Jim would like to tell you." There was a wicked grin on his face.

Jim swallowed hard, caught off guard. What the hell was Artie up to? In order to stall for time, he walked across to an armchair in the corner of the room, settled himself comfortably, and then looked up at his partner, with a twinkle in his green eyes.

"But you tell it so much better than I do," he said, placing the ball firmly in his partner's court.

"All right, I will tell you," Artie said. "You may have heard of my cousin, Lightning McCoy?"

"I've heard he's unbeatable when it comes to the fast draw," Wade supplied.

"Si, Senor, that was him."

"Was?"

"Yes, he was brought down by a jumped-up, agent of the accursed Federal Government; a man of little real talent, but who made a lucky shot. My cousin must have been having a bad day, I suppose, otherwise he would still be alive and the agent would be dead."

Jim looked at him indignantly.

"So your name is McCoy too?" Wade asked.

"Si, Lightning and me, we shared an Irish grandfather, Padraig McCoy. My real name is Joaquin McCoy. My American friends find it hard to pronounce so they simply call me Irish Jack."

"You didn't tell me he was a Mexican," Wade said to West.

"It must have slipped my mind," Jim replied, dryly, scowling at Gordon.

"I've told him that there's $100 in it for him if he plays his part in our scheme," Wade said.

"Did you agree?" Jim asked his partner.

"Si," Artie said. "We will be working together, amigo. But I will not do it for less than $200."

Jim sighed. "All right; everything is settled then," Jim said, relieved that the plan was still on track, despite the spanner Artie had thrown into the works, or should he say 'Spaniard'? He smiled to himself.

Wade was talking. "The only thing that worries me is whether a Mexican can blend in at the White House," he said.

"Don't worry," Jim replied. "My friend here is a master of disguise. Though I've never seen him play an Asian successfully," he added.

Artie frowned at this dig on the part of his partner, though he couldn't really deny it.

"That's all right then," Wade said, standing up. "Fill Jack in on the details and I'll see you both later."

The agents took this as their dismissal and left Wade's study together.

"Joaquin McCoy?" Jim demanded, once they were on their own.

"I told you I didn't want to play an Irishman. Anyway, I love this costume."

"You could at least have warned me. I didn't know what was going on when I walked into Wade's study."

"Good, it helps to keep you on your toes," Artie told him.

"Okay." Jim sighed again. "I won't make up any more names for you, if you promise not to serve me up any more shocks."

"Agreed, now what happens?"

"I've searched Wade's study and I've questioned Roseanna but I still haven't found out who is behind the assassination plot."

"Do you think the girl knows?"

"No, I don't think she's holding back. I think she's enamoured of me."

"Really?"

"I don't see why you should be so surprised. Anyway, she tried to persuade me to leave because she didn't want to see me hurt."

"Are you sure it wasn't just because she wanted you to leave her alone?"

West glared at him. "I have a feeling that we're going to have to go along with this thing if we want to find out who's behind it."

"But without risking the President's life."

"That goes without saying," Jim said.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Gordon had been given a room in the ranch and was up early the next morning, so that he could be the first down to breakfast. The food had not yet arrived in the dining room but there was a pot of hot coffee so he poured himself a cup and stood by the window, looking out on the sunlit morning.

He turned when he heard the door open and beheld a vision of beauty enter the room.

"Oh," Roseanna said, surprised. "I didn't expect anyone to be down yet."

"Ah, was there ever such a vision of beauty?" Gordon said. "Am I still in bed and dreaming?"

He advanced towards her. Roseanna seated herself at the dining table and Artie followed suit, putting down his cup and saucer.

"Buenos dias senorita...?"

"Wade, Roseanna Wade."

"Ah you are a relative of my host. Do not tell me you are his esposa."

"I am his cousin," she replied.

"Ah good; In that case, I am Irish Jack, and I am at your disposal."

"You don't sound Irish."

"It is a long and boring story, senorita, and I am a man of few words," Artie replied, cursing Jim anew for saddling him with the name. "Well now, senorita, what is a beautiful woman like you doing out here, in the middle of nowhere?"

"Minding my own business, mostly," she said, tartly.

Just then Jim entered the room and Roseanna's demeanour toward Artie underwent a change.

"I'm sure things will become more interesting now you are here," she said, placing her hand on his arm.

Artie, playing his part to the hilt, and hoping to get his own back on his partner, took advantage of her approach.

"Well, senorita, I always like to oblige a lady, when I can, especially the pretty ones like you."

Jim frowned.

Just then they heard the sound of someone at the front door and then there were noises in the entrance hall. The door to the dining room burst open and a tall man, with a mane of dark locks, and matching facial hair, entered.

Roseanna looked like she had seen a ghost.

"Ben Driver," she breathed.

The man leered at her and then took in her companions.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said.

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More to follow


	7. Disaster

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 7

 **Disaster**

There was a brief moment of silence as no-one seemed capable of, or willing to, answer the question.

James West was already looking for some way out of the dining room that wouldn't involve having to go through the man in the doorway.

"We were told you were dead," Roseanna said, at last, having taken her eyes off Jim and Artie, she was staring straight at Ben Driver.

Seeing his opportunity, Jim sprang for the window nearest to him, that just happened to be open, and leapt through it, head first, landing on his hands and executing a neat roll to absorb the energy released by his forward momentum.

A well-aimed shot from Ben Driver's gun barely missed him and Artie turned just in time to see his partner's boots disappear through the opening.

Moments later, Jim climbed back through the window and backed toward Artie, followed by the barrel of a gun, in the hand of Wade's Canadian henchman.

"I heard a shot and caught this one escaping out of the window," the henchman told Wade, who had entered the dining room, to investigate the commotion, and was standing next to Ben Driver. "I thought he looked suspicious so I brought him back in."

"Good work, Molyneaux," Wade said and then turned to the man beside him. "What are you doing here, Driver? Your men told us you were dead. And what's all the shooting about?"

"I thought it would be a good idea to play dead to get the sheriff off my back. He had called in the secret service and things were getting a little hot for me," Driver said. "I was shooting at one of those secret agents when you came in."

"Who? Who's a secret agent?" Wade demanded, looking around the dining room.

"That's James West," Driver said, pointing straight at Jim, with the barrel of his gun. "He put me in jail on a counterfeiting charge. I'd be there now if I hadn't been sprung by my men."

"But that's Gentleman Jim, the bank robber."

"Boy has he pulled one over on you," Driver said. "He's no criminal; he's the man who shot my old friend Lightning McCoy. And I'm going to kill him."

Before Driver had a chance to carry out this action Artie had turned on his partner, forming a barrier between him and Driver. "You filthy pig!" he screamed, striking Jim with his fist. "I will kill you!"

Artie had made sure to pull his punch so it was not too painful. Jim threw himself to the floor, making it look more forceful than it was, thus taking himself out of Driver's eye-line.

Wade grabbed the barrel of Driver's gun, at this point and forced it downward. Driver turned to glare at him.

"I'm in charge here," Wade said, "And I want no killing in my house. Holster your gun, you fool!"

Driver shoved the gun back into his holster, with a grunt, and Wade looked over at Artie, who was in the process of drawing his gun. "That goes for you too, Jack," he said. Artie obeyed him with a scowl, at the same time giving Jim a surreptitious wink. They both waited to see what would happen next.

"I thought you said you knew Gentleman Jim," Wade accused Artie.

Artie tugged at his jacket, in order to straighten it, and scowled at West. "He has attempted to dupe me! Me, Joaquin McCoy. Why did I not question what he told me – the man who killed my cousin? Madre de Dios! I am a man of few words and too trusting a heart," he added, beating that organ with his fist for emphasis.

"Don't listen to him!" Driver said. "If he's a friend of West's then he's a secret agent too; probably that partner of his, Artemus Gordon."

"Is this true?" Wade demanded.

"Senor, surely you are not going to listen to the word of a common criminal and not a very successful one, at that."

Driver growled and tried to get at Gordon but one of Wade's henchmen intervened.

"Calm down. I know how to find out the truth," Wade said. "Molyneaux, put a knife to Mr West's throat!"

Molyneaux did as he was told and Jim felt the cold blade forced against the skin of his neck. He knew it would be the work of seconds for the henchman to slit his throat.

"Now, Jack, or whatever your name is, I could kill Mr West if I choose. If you are who you say you are, you'll be happy to let me do so. But, if you are a secret agent and West's partner, then you'd better speak up, if you don't want to see your colleague bleed to death on my dining room floor."

"I thought you didn't like people being killed in your house," Artie reminded him, playing for time.

"I'm willing to make an exception in the case of Mr West," Wade said. "Now what's it to be?"

Artie looked at Jim who returned him a resolute look. Both of them knew that they were out of options, although hopefully only temporarily. Artie sighed and turned his gaze back to Wade. For all he knew Wade might have them both killed anyway but Artie couldn't face watching his friend killed in front of his face and he couldn't accept that he was, in any way, the cause of his partner's death.

"Okay," Artie said, "Tell your man to put his knife away. Driver's telling the truth."

"I told you," Driver shouted, in triumph.

Wade waved at him to be quiet.

"So you are a secret agent," Wade concluded.

"Artemus Gordon at you service," Artie replied, with a slight bow.

"So you're not even Mexican?"

"No, Senor. Sorry, Jim," Artie added, removing his moustache and placing it in his pocket for safe-keeping.

"That's alright, Buddy," Jim told him, rubbing his neck, now that the knife had been removed. "What do you intend to do with us?" he asked Wade.

"I don't have time to deal with you now; we have to prepare for our journey to Washington and I'm guessing that we'll have to change our plans because you've probably told your superiors about the Senator."

"He's under guard in a secret location, at this very moment," Artie confirmed.

Wade frowned and turned to his henchmen. "Take them down to the cellar!" he ordered, "And don't forget to tie them up!"

Without ceremony, and before either agent could come up with an escape plan, they were hit on the head and carried out of the room, unconscious.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

More to follow


	8. The Cellar

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 8

 **The Cellar**

Jim was the first one to wake up, groaning as he became aware of the pain in his skull. He briefly thought of cradling it in his hands but realised that would be impossible, as he was tied to a chair, with his hands secured behind him. He looked across at Artie. He was tied around the waist to a vertical, wooden pole. There were ropes attached to a horizontal baton further up the pole, which had been used to tie around Artie's wrists.

Jim was enough of a friend to wish that he could change places with his partner as he could see that Artie had the harsher part of the deal. His arms would be aching in no time, starved of blood and consequently oxygen. He wasn't as young and fit as West and the strain would tell on his muscles more rapidly.

It was while he was worrying about this that there was the sound of a key in a lock and the door opened to admit Victor Wade and his cousin.

"I see you're awake, Mr West," Wade said, superfluously, "Roseanna has persuaded me to bring you some water to drink." He motioned to his cousin who, Jim now noticed, had a canteen of water in her hands. She undid the top and held it to Jim's lips. He swallowed thirstily, realising that he had not drunk anything since the day before. When about half of it was left, Roseanna removed the canteen and turned toward Artie. However, he was still unconscious. Wade struck Artie's leg with the toe of his boot but he didn't move.

"I hope I haven't killed him," Wade said, his tone belying the words.

"I'm leaving you two here, while we conclude our business in Washington," he continued, turning back to Jim. "I'll deal with you when I get back."

"Why not kill us now?" Jim demanded.

"You will act as insurance should our plan fail and one or all of us are arrested. I'm sure the President would agree drop all charges in exchange for two of his experienced Secret Service agents, especially two men who served under him during the war. Yes, I have been talking to Ben Driver," he confirmed, when he saw the look of surprise on West's face. "He has told me quite a lot about you two. Well, good-bye for now. I have a train to catch in a couple of hours' time and I shall see you in a couple of days. I'll have one of my men look in on you at regular intervals."

Roseanna gave Jim an apologetic smile and then she turned to follow Wade out of the door.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The moment they were gone, Jim went back to watching his partner, with concern, while he attempted to inch his chair toward him. He could just about manage to place the toes of his boots on the floor, even though his lower legs were bound to those of the chair. It caused excruciating pain to put the weight of both him and the chair on the extended muscles, ligaments and tendons of his ankles and toes. His progress was tediously slow but his determination to reach his friend overcame the pain and discomfort.

Jim was only a foot away from Artie when the latter finally regained consciousness. He saw his partner wince as he slowly opened his eyes and, as Jim had done before him, automatically attempt to put his hands to his aching head, only to find them fixed above him. Then he noticed his friend.

"Hi Jim," he said. "What on earth are you doing?" he added, as his focus improved.

"I'm trying to reach you," Jim replied. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I hope you have some sort of plan."

"You'll see," Jim said, still concentrating on reaching Artie. "There!" he said in triumph, as he was finally close enough for the next part of his plan. He operated the spring in his right boot by striking it against Artie's left one. A sharp knife appeared.

"Now what are you going to do?" Artie asked with a sour note to his voice.

"I'm going to..." Jim began and then stopped.

"I think you were going to say you planned to cut the ropes tying me to the pole, with the knife in your boot.

"Yeah," Jim admitted meekly.

"But now you've realised that, with the knife on the end of your boot, you can't use your toes to propel the chair forward – Right?"

"Yes," Jim said, embarrassed and cross with himself and, unfairly, with Artie as well."

"It's a good job that I have a knife up my sleeve then isn't it?" Artie said.

Jim watched as Artie dropped the knife from his sleeve to his hand and then frowned with concentration, before smiling, as he released his hands from their bindings.

Jim grinned. "I always knew I could rely on you, Artie," he said.

Artie grinned back and then set the knife against the ropes around his middle and proceeded to cut through them as well.

Once free, Artie stood up and stretched, then began rubbing his wrists to restore their circulation.

"Ah-hem," Jim said, to remind his partner of his own predicament and his urgent need to be released, so they could both get out of there.

"Alright, alright," Artie said, as he swiftly released Jim's hands. "Didn't your mother ever teach you any patience?"

"Yes, but I'm a slow learner," Jim replied.

"Here, take the knife; you can cut the ropes around your legs yourself."

It didn't take Jim long to dispose of his bindings and, stepping free of them, the first thing he did was to retract the knife in the toe of his boot. Then he returned Artie's knife to him.

"I've never known you to carry a knife up your sleeve before," Jim commented.

"I did last time I wore this outfit but I never had the opportunity to use it. I've even adapted one of your devices, to hold it in place but which allows me to propel it into my hand almost instantly." He demonstrated by pulling up his sleeve and returning the knife to its place.

"Neat," Jim said. "I think it's time we got out of here," he added, moving stealthily toward the door. When he reached it, he placed his ear to one of the panels, to listen for any noise outside. Hearing nothing, he released the ever-present lock-pick from his lapel and used it to open the lock. He turned the knob as slowly and quietly as possible and opened the door a crack, enough to allow him to see into the passage outside. Artie was poised behind him, in case they were met by force.

Jim detected neither sound nor movement so opened the door wide enough for him to pass through. He motioned to Artie to follow him. Then he shut the door carefully behind them, took Artie's hand and ran with him to a flight of stairs, as quickly as he could. They swiftly climbed the stairs and, after opening the door at the top, found themselves in a storeroom, attached to the kitchen. The connecting door was not locked and the two agents were soon outside and making for the stables, to collect their horses. Thankfully, there was no-one in there, so they saddled up and rode off to where the Wanderer was waiting, just outside of town.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

More to follow


	9. Which Plan?

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 9

 **Which Plan?**

Once aboard the Wanderer, and having given the order to proceed at full-speed to Washington, the two agents adjourned to their quarters, to clean themselves up and change their clothing. They kept their doors open and were, therefore, able to carry on a conversation.

"By my reckoning, we were only in that cellar for about thirty minutes after Wade and the others left," West said.

"Yes," Artie agreed, "And I checked the timetable. Their train doesn't leave for another hour yet. We can easily overtake them and make it to Washington in time to put a spoke in their wheel. Especially since the engine on their train burns wood, whereas ours burns coal," he said. "That means they'll have to stop more frequently to pick up fuel."

Jim, in the process of fastening his trousers, put his head around the door. "Thank goodness for that extravagance, allowed to us by Colonel Richmond," he said. "What do you think their new plan will be?"

"I can't be sure but, as Wade is still using Driver and Prentiss, it won't have changed all that much from the original one."

"You think, he'll still try to use the diversion and the poisoned needle?" Jim asked.

"I would say it's a safe bet. He knows we're wise to the plot involving the Senator and that we've passed that information on to the powers that be. But it would be difficult to come up with a totally different plan at this late stage."

"You'd think Wade would abandon it all together for now," Jim commented, doing up the last button on his shirt and tucking the tails into his waistband.

"They've already lost most of the element of surprise," Artie pointed out. "If they wait, they won't have any at all. Besides this is the President's last public appearance for a while."

"It's a shame I couldn't let Colonel Richmond know the whole plot. All I told him was to keep a watch on the Senator because someone would try to impersonate him at the reception as part of an assassination plot. There's only so much you can put in a telegraph, especially when you're pressed for time."

"Well, we have time to make a fuller report during our journey to Washington," Artie assured him.

"Let's hope Wade's men don't pay a visit to that cellar until Wade and the others are well on their way. Then they won't be able to contact him to tell him we've escaped and to look out for us at the reception."

Artie entered the varnish car first, followed by Jim, who was still straightening his tie. Artie set about preparing a further report for Colonel Richmond, and sent it via telegraph, while Jim looked on anxiously. The reply to Artie's message was not long in coming. The Colonel confirmed that he would have some men look out for Wade and the others at the railway station and ordered them to go directly to the White House on their arrival.

The two agents settled down to a leisurely game of billiards to help pass the time.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

As predicted, the Wanderer made good time and reached Washington well ahead of the train carrying the assassins. When they caught up with the Colonel, at the White House, he was finalising the security arrangements for that evening's Presidential reception.

"Hello James, Artemus," he greeted.

"Sir," they said in union.

"Good work in smoking out this threat to the President," he congratulated them.

"Thank you, Sir," Jim answered for both of them. "I just hope we can catch them when they leave the train, and wrap this whole thing up."

"Well, as to that...," Richmond began and then looked at the agents apologetically.

"Yes Sir?" Artie prompted.

"There's been a change of plan. I've discussed the matter with the President and decided to let them go ahead with their plan, in an attempt to smoke out the person behind the plot, the one who is paying Wade and the others. I take it you have no idea who that might be?"

"No Sir," West replied, "But what about the danger to the President?"

"He'll be well protected, and he has agreed to let it be known that their plot has been successful and that he's been killed. I'm relying on you two to follow the guilty parties when they leave the White House. With the President out of the way, there will be no reason for their paymaster to remain in the shadows. He will probably want to be near the White House to verify that the President is dead and to congratulate the two men before paying them off."

"You could be wrong, Sir, you know," Artie said.

"I have thought of that but this is the best chance we have. If I'm wrong, we can still round up the perpetrators. But I can't keep the survival of the President quiet for long and, once it is common knowledge, this person will undoubtedly try to kill him again. Only next time we won't have advance knowledge of their plans."

"It's certainly a problem, Sir," Jim conceded. Artie nodded.

"I'm glad you agree with me," Richmond said graciously. They all knew that, as his subordinates, they were bound to follow his orders, whether they agreed with them or not.

"Just tell us exactly what you want us to do, Sir," Jim said.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

West looked around the reception, paying close attention to all the guests. Almost any of them, even ones he has met before, could be the killer. He was assuming that Prentiss could imitate a wide range of people. There were several other, less experienced, agents present at the White House that night and they had been given all the information that Jim and Artie had gained during their time at Wade's ranch house.

Jim was attempting to keep as low a profile as possible, concerned that Driver and Prentiss would recognise him and know the game was up. So, instead of keeping close to one of the refreshment tables, as he normally did, mingling with the guests, he had secreted himself in a dimly-lit corner of the room. When he wanted to get a closer look at a particular guest, he would skirt around the perimeter of the room in order to get to them. He hoped that his simple disguise of a neat beard and moustache would prevent him being recognised. When he had first seen his face, in the mirror, adorned with the fake face hair, he had been pleased at how distinguished he looked. It was auburn and went very well with his hair colour. Now all he wanted to do was claw it off. It was both scratchy and itchy at the same time, besides making his feel hot, and he knew that he was patting it excessively and suspiciously, out of fear that it would unpeel itself and drop off. This was nothing like the experience he had had with the negligible moustache he had sported in the character of Frank Slade. He marvelled that Artie could manage to wear such hideous things for hours on end, and always without complaint. His admiration for his partner grew in that moment.

Besides searching the room, Jim was also keeping a close eye on the President, as different guests approached him. He had discounted people of short stature, as Driver and Prentiss were both quite tall. He hadn't discounted all of the females though, as there were two in particular who were about the right height. Due to their bulk and their advanced age, he felt that a man could impersonate either of them, especially as they were single ladies, who had arrived on their own. He wondered when the diversion would begin.

Artie was not with his partner but he too was waiting for the fight that would herald the assassination attempt. He regularly looked toward the door and also paid close attention to the guests nearest to him.

He was extremely surprised when he was joined by James West. He had thought his partner was sporting a beard that evening and he was momentarily confused as it appeared that was not the case. His first impression was that he was taller than usual but jim bent forward to speak to him at that moment and so he was unable to judge his height accurately. He was obviously becoming suspicious of everyone.

"Jim?" he said, wondering what it was he wanted.

"Mr President, Sir," 'West' said. "Could I have a word with you?"

Artie was startled for a moment and did a double-take, but was quick-witted enough to play along.

"What is it, Mr West?" he asked, removing the half-smoked cigar from between his lips.

The man beside him looked around and then said, "There's a fire in the hallway, Sir; I think it would be wise for you to leave."

Artie looked across the room and could see some sort of commotion and then spotted a thin trail of smoke coming under the door. The guests were retreating further into the room. He turned back to West.

"Of course, of course," he said, "But make sure my guests are safe, won't you?"

"That's being taken care of Mr President. If you'd just like to come with me?" He placed his hand on Artie's arm and Artie felt the needle go in.

He looked at his companion, wide-eyed. "James?" he said, and promptly crumpled to the carpet. Prentiss looked down at his victim. The President's eyes were half closed and his mouth was hanging open, slack with death.

"Mission accomplished," he whispered to himself, and walked away, to mingle with the other guests, who were being ushered out of the room, through french doors, that led outside onto a terrace. He would soon disappear and be lost in the darkness.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

More to follow


	10. A Discovery

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 10

 **A Discovery**

Jim had also spotted the smoke from the hallway and had realised that this must be Ben Driver's doing. That meant Wade's plan had gone into action at last. He quickly shifted his gaze to his partner and saw him being approached by...himself!?

His mind racing, Jim came to the realisation that they must have taken a mask of his face, while he was unconscious, in the cellar. He scowled. He hated the thought that, if their plan had succeeded, President Grant would have gone to his death, believing that his trusted agent and friend had killed him.

Jim knew the moment when the needle must have been inserted into Artie's arm, by the way his partner fell to the floor. Now was the time for him to act. He followed the man, who must be Prentiss, as he joined the throng of guests leaving the room. Everyone was so intent in getting away from the fire that no one had noticed what had happened to their host. Jim knew that he would be carried into one of the anterooms and, once there, would be replaced by the real President. He hoped that no harm had come to Artemus Gordon.

It was a few minutes before Prentiss managed to exit the building. Jim quietly followed him, as he sneaked away from the other guests and made his way, across the lawn, toward a clump of bushes. Artie had, meantime, sneaked out of the anteroom, to which he had been carried, and left the building by a different route. He found Jim, crouched in the darkness, not far from the bushes he was watching and hunkered down beside him.

"How did it go?" Jim asked, in a whisper.

"Exactly according to plan, thanks to the metal sleeve I was wearing on my arm, enclosed in thick rubber. As soon as I felt pressure on my forearm, I simply threw myself on the floor. I did a very realistic job of dying, if I say so myself."

Jim turned to his partner, in the dark. "Why are you wearing glasses?" he said.

"It's my disguise. I kept my presidential moustache as well," he added.

Jim shook his head and motioned toward the bushes. "I've just seen our man enter the bushes over there. There's no way out of the grounds that way, so I'm waiting for him to return, hopefully with whomever he is meeting."

Artie nodded to show he understood.

A couple of minutes later Prentiss emerged from the shrubbery and started walking in their direction. As he came close to where they were hiding, Artie jumped him, making only the merest sound, and pulled him to the ground, knocking him out, with the butt of his revolver, before he had a chance to call out. He gave Jim an OK sign, before pulling the unconscious man to a spot where he wouldn't be seen and then returning to where his partner was hiding.

"We couldn't have two of you running around," he whispered, as he settled back on his haunches. "One is quite enough. Any movement?"

"Not yet," Jim replied. "They may be waiting to see if they hear any sound of Prentiss being apprehended, before they show themselves."

"I think you're right."

With that, the two of them froze, as they heard a distinct rustling from the bushes and saw a figure in black look around and then make its way toward the nearby terrace, where most of the guests were gathered. As he approached where they were hidden, the figure's face was lit by the full moon, coming from behind a cloud, and they could see that it was Victor Wade.

West was just about to draw his gun, prior to intercepting him, when Artie poked him in the ribs.

"Wait!" he whispered. "Wade can't be the person we want. He made it plain that he was working for a third party and he has no obvious motive for wanting the President dead."

West looked at him for a moment and then nodded. "That makes sense," he said.

They were forced to allow Wade to go on his way, so as not to spook the person they were waiting for and who they hoped was still in the bushes somewhere. After a minute or two a slight figure darted out into the opened and ran at high speed in the opposite direction to Wade and then disappeared into another clump of bushes. West and Gordon exchanged puzzled looks.

"A woman?" they mouthed in unison.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

The figure was definitely that of a female, wearing a cloak. The agents moved stealthily around the White House building, hugging the wall, so as to remain in the shadows. Eventually the figure broke cover once more and headed for the terrace. West and Gordon intercepted the fleeing figure, Jim grabbing her arms, and pinning them behind her back, while Gordon pulled back the hood of her cloak.

"Roseanna?" he said, looking down into startled eyes.

James dropped his hold on her and she turned to look at him. It took a while for her to recognise them, even though their disguises were not elaborate ones.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said, a shade breathlessly. It had obviously been a shock. "Or to be manhandled," she added, rubbing her wrists and glaring at Jim. She had regained some of her former spirit by now.

"We're doing our job," Jim replied. "More to the point, what are you doing here?"

"My cousin brought me here. I had nothing to do with the assassination plot. You know very well that I tried to stop you from helping him, Jim," she said, making wide eyes at him, which held a mixture of innocence and beguilement.

Artie and Jim looked at each other.

"She's right," Jim said. "She did try to persuade me to leave."

"Hmm," said Artie, "I suspect that, as usual, that had more to do with those green eyes of yours than any desire to do the right thing. She was probably scared that you'd be arrested before she had a chance to seduce you. I bet she didn't try and persuade Ben Driver to give up his part in the plan."

"Well, no," Jim said, aware that Roseanna had admitted as much. "But she had a very good reason."

"I bet. And has she told you the reason she left you tied to a bed the other night?"

"No," Jim admitted. "But it was probably because she didn't want me involved, like I said."

"Don't be so naive, Jim. I'm not satisfied that she's not the person behind all of this. I think we should take her inside."

Jim scowled, but took one of her arms while Artie took the other.

"Please, just let me go," Roseanna said. "You don't want to bother with me, I'm nobody."

"Who's that?" Artie asked, looking over the top of his glasses at a figure running toward them.

"It's Reynolds," Jim pronounced, recognising one of the agents who had been helping with security that evening. "What is it Joe?"

"Colonel Richmond sent me to tell you that everything's under control. There was no fire. Ben Driver knocked out the guards in the hallway with some sort of gas canister and then used a smoke bomb to make it look like there was a fire."

"Did you catch him?"

"Yes he's being held under lock and key and so is Victor Wade. We didn't find Prentiss though."

"You'll find him under a bush somewhere over there," Artie told him. "I'd better warn you that he looks just like Jim here, except he's taller."

"I'll have him moved inside," Joe said, running back toward the White House to fetch help.

"We'd better get going," Artie said, attempting to drag Roseanna with him.

Roseanna struggled to release herself from their grip.

"Let me go!" she said. "I told you I didn't have anything to do with this."

"Then you won't mind coming back to the house with us," Jim said.

"Oooooooh," Roseanna screamed, with temper.

"The last resort of a guilty woman," Artie said, hauling her away.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

More to follow


	11. About the War

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 11

 **About the War**

The smoke had cleared by the time the two agents returned to the reception room, with Roseanna Wade in tow. The guests had returned also and were milling around discussing recent events and wondering what was going to happen next.

Colonel Richmond was present and intercepted the agents. He seemed surprised to see them escorting a young woman, and a beautiful one at that.

Good evening Colonel," West said.

"Gentlemen?" he queried, and both of them understood that he was demanding an explanation.

"This is Wade's cousin. Strange as it may seem, she was the one we caught hanging around outside." West said.

"Acting suspiciously," Artie added.

"Colonel, I appeal to you," Roseanna said, turning doe-like, pleading eyes in his direction. I'm not the villain here. I'm just a pawn in my cousin's schemes."

She couldn't know that Colonel Richmond was less susceptible to the whiles of women than James West.

"Come with me!" he said.

He went before them into an anteroom to their left. The two agents followed, with their prisoner. As they entered the room, a man rose from the couch, which had its back to them. He turned to see who had entered. Roseanna gasped.

"My dear," Grant said, moving forward to greet her. "What brings you here? And why are you holding her like that?" he demanded of the two agents.

"You're alive!" was all Roseanna could say for the moment.

"Yes, thanks mainly to Mr Gordon here," Grant said. "He took my place at the reception, this evening. But no one has answered my question," he added, looking at the three men in front of him.

"Mr President, Miss Wade here...," Jim began.

"Miss Wade? You've made a mistake, Mr West, this is Miranda Wakefield, the daughter of Major Sam Wakefield."

"Sam Wakefield's daughter?" Richmond exclaimed.

"Yes, I haven't seen you since your father's funeral, six months ago. I'm sorry he died so young?"

The young woman broke free of the hands that restrained her, their grasp having slackened, at what the President had said. She stormed toward Grant and almost snarled at him. "You're sorry?" she hissed at him. "You killed him, you murderer! And when I thought Prentiss had killed you, I was happy, happy for the first time since my father died." She was in tears and wiped them away fiercely with the back of her hand.

"I don't understand," Grant said. "What did I ever do to your father? He was a valued officer and friend."

"Then I would hate to be your enemy," she spat.

West and Gordon quickly restrained her again. Grant waved them away.

"That won't be necessary," he said. "Miss Wakefield, please sit down."

Miranda looked at him daggers but, glancing at the two agents and the Colonel, all of whom were looking back at her with frowns on their faces, she realised she didn't have any choice. So she sat down on the couch next to President Grant.

"Tell me what this is all about," he said.

Miranda let out a sigh. "After my father died, I went through his papers and I found a journal he kept during the war."

"I remember that journal. Sam always said that he would write his memoirs one day and he wanted to make sure he had the facts straight," Grant said.

"After he was released by the Confederates, at the end of the war, he ended up in a wheelchair and he lost interest in the idea," Miranda said. "They told him his heart had been affected and it would shorten his life. Thankfully, he lived for quite a few years, still it was a shock when the end came. That was why I wanted to read his journal. I thought maybe I could have it published posthumously." There were tears forming in her eyes but she wiped them away and looked back at the President. "That was how I found out the reason he ended up as a prisoner. The way you left him, abandoned him," she accused.

Grant bowed his head. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way," he said, sadly.

"Yes, I just bet you didn't want me to find out."

"On the contrary, I thought your father would have told you years ago."

Miranda frowned and was about to open her mouth when Artie approached Grant.

"With your permission, Mr President, allow me to tell Miss Wakefield the truth of what happened. Having blamed you for so long, she may believe me more easily."

"Certainly, Mr Gordon, I think you're probably correct."

He stood up and moved to one of the armchairs, while Artie took his place on the couch.

"Miss Wakefield," he began, "I don't know how much your father included in his journal but I remember the day he was captured very well. He and I were on very similar missions, making our way behind enemy lines, disguised as Confederate soldiers."

"Are you saying that my father was a spy?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, I suppose that's a good enough description. I had amassed some very useful information and was heading back to report to my commanding officer. I bumped into a band of Confederate stragglers and joined up with them, temporarily, as it was the safest way to travel. Your father had the same idea and was already accepted by the band. We both had passable cover stories to explain why we were wandering about on our own and they were more than happy to have us join them."

"So what went wrong?"

"We were surprised by a group of Union soldiers who had been sent to scout out the terrain, prior to the platoon moving forward. The result was a skirmish that left your father with a bullet in his shoulder, quite close to the heart. I was knocked unconscious. After both sides had had enough, they called a truce so that the wounded and the bodies of the dead could be rescued and taken away. One of the Unionist soldiers recognised me as we had served in the same platoon and he made sure I was rescued. Unfortunately your father was carried away by the Confederates and, although they saved his life, he was kept prisoner and life in the camp affected his heart. Thankfully, they believed him when he said he was just someone who had got cut off from his men and was trying to find his way back. That saved him from facing a firing squad."

Miranda put her hands over her face. "My poor father," she said, through tears. "He said he'd been abandoned and I can understand that's how he would have felt. If only he hadn't been wounded, and if only you hadn't been rendered unconscious," she said, turning to Artie.

"You can't wish that any more than I do. But, although he was there on General Grant's orders, he wasn't abandoned."

"Why did he send out that advance troop?" she asked.

"He didn't. He had given orders that there should be no movements in that particular area. Somehow that order was misunderstood by one of his subordinate officers."

"So he had nothing to do with what happened to my father?"

"No, in fact, I was serving under him over the following days and, I'm sure he won't mind me saying," he said, looking across at the President, who gave a small nod. "He was deeply upset by what happened to your father, to the point of tears."

"They had been friends since their time at the Academy," Miranda said. She sat silently for a moment and then she looked over at President Grant."

"I'm so sorry, Sir," she said tremulously. Then she placed a hand over her mouth in shock before saying, "My God, I almost had you killed!"

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

More to follow


	12. Finally

**The Night of the Near Fatal Trap**

Chapter 12

 **Finally**

"Precisely," Colonel Richmond said, advancing on Miranda.

The President shook his head at him and Richmond stopped in his tracks.

"I think we can deal with this among ourselves," he said, coming to stand in front of Miranda. "You poor child," he said, "It must have been awful to believe that your father was abandoned by his friends. I can't really blame you for your actions, though I would rather you had come to me and told me how you felt. Then all of this could have been avoided. However, grief often leaves us not quite in our right mind." He turned to West. "What do we know about the three men, Wade, Driver and Prentiss?"

"Well, Driver is wanted for robbery and murder and, with what we know, Wade is facing a charge of conspiracy, for allowing Driver to use his ranch as a base and taking a cut of the proceeds. We don't have anything on Prentiss, but he was the one who actually attempted to kill you. If you don't want to charge him with that, we could hold him for impersonating a Federal Agent for the reason of committing a felony, while we try and dig up any other crimes he may have committed."

"Excellent, then that is what we'll do. Miranda, my dear, I trust that you no longer harbour any ill will toward me?"

"Oh no, Mr President."

"Then let that be an end to the matter."

"I protest, Mr President," Richmond said, frowning. "This young lady may well have killed you. You can't just let her walk away."

"I'm well aware of that, Colonel. And I quite agree with you." He looked down at Miranda who was gazing at him, wide-eyed with trepidation.

"That's why I'm going to make sure you are kept busy in the future, and I will also keep a fatherly eye on you."

The look on Miranda's face turned to one of surprise. "I don't understand," she said.

"I want you to help out at a home for war veterans, located not far from where you live."

"I know the one you mean, Sir," Miranda said, smiling. "I have visited it in the past. Some of the men are old comrades of my father."

"Splendid, all I want you to do would be to visit them regularly, to keep them in good spirits, and help the Manager, with any administrative chores, when called for. It would be unpaid work. Do you think you could do that?"

"Of course, Mr President, it would be my pleasure. I can't thank you enough for being so kind."

"Just do a good job, that's thanks enough," Grant said. "You can leave for home in the morning but for now, I think we can find a room for you at a local hotel. You'd better go with Colonel Richmond."

"Thank you, Sir," Miranda said, "But do you mind if I say a few words to Mr West first?"

"Of course. Mr West, please come here."

Jim came forward, wondering what Ros...Miranda could have to say to him.

"Mr West..." She hesitated. "I'm sorry for what I did but I want you to know that I liked you from the first and I really did try to prevent you being caught up in all this. But I'm glad now that I couldn't get you to leave, and that you turned out to be one of the good guys. I shall always remember you." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "The beard doesn't suit you," she whispered, just before drawing back.

Jim grinned. "With the Colonel's permission, I'll escort you to a hotel," he offered.

"By all means," Richmond said, glad to be relieved of that particular task. He had much more important things to do, like telling everyone the President was alive and well.

"I don't want you getting up to your usual ways with Miss Wakefield, James," Grant warned him sternly, as Jim took her arm, preparatory to escorting her from the room.

"Sir, you wound me," Jim said with a smile.

When they were gone, Colonel Richmond took his leave and Artie rose from the couch.

"Are you going back to the Wanderer?" Grant asked.

"Yes, Mr President." He paused and seemed about to say something more.

"You're wondering about the wisdom of my decision regarding Miss Wakefield, are you not, Mr Gordon?"

"I wouldn't dare to question your actions, Mr President," Artie was quick to reply.

"Don't worry, Artemus, Miss Wakefield will be in the safe and capable hands of the new manager. She hasn't met Mr Fulton yet but I'm sure they'll get along fine, and he is a young man in sore need of a wife." He chuckled

Artie laughed and shook his head. "I never pictured you in the role of matchmaker before, Sir. My admiration for you continues to grow."

"And mine for you, Artemus. You did a wonderful job here this evening and I owe my life to you, not for the first time."

"It's part of my job, Mr President," Artie said, "But also my pleasure.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

Artie was in the galley when Jim returned to the Wanderer. It was late evening but neither of them had eaten since mid-day, so Artie was fixing them a late supper of chicken fricassee. It was not up to his best standard of cooking but quick and simple, and using up the cold chicken left over from the reception, which he had obtained from the White House kitchen, on his way out.

"Well did you get up to your usual ways with Miss Wakefield?" Artie asked him, adding a white wine to the sauce, and slapping Jim's fingers away from the pan.

"Course not; you heard what the President said."

"Really?" he asked. It hadn't slipped his notice that his partner was no longer sporting a beard and moustache.

"Well, I might have given her a good-bye kiss," Jim admitted.

"I knew it."

"I didn't see you holding back when you were playing Irish Jack," Jim accused.

"I was just playing a part," Artie said. "People expect tall, dark Mexicans to make love to them."

"That reminds me; there's something I've been meaning to ask you ever since you played Lightning McCoy. How come you managed to look inches taller than you normally do?"

"Well part of it is stretching your body upward and walking straight-legged. The other part is wearing lifts in my boots."

"You were wearing lifts?"

"Yeah, you should try it, Jim," Artie said, looking him up and down.

"Nah," I don't need them," Jim replied, walking off to make himself comfortable in the Varnish car, while he waited for supper to be ready.

Artie watched him go, shaking his head in disbelief. ' _Well, I'm not going to be the one to tell him_ ,' he thought.

ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo

THE END


End file.
